


Calendar

by Escopeta



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Light Romance, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 15:36:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9498653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Escopeta/pseuds/Escopeta
Summary: Birthdays were supposed to be joyous occasions, that one day of the year where others could celebrate someone's existence.Nico, however, only finds them unnecessary.





	

Nico doesn’t particularly like birthdays.

It isn’t that they’re terrible, or they’re not something worth celebrating. No, in general, birthdays are great. Amazing. Wonderful. They’re good things to get excited about. Another year closer to death. Fun for everyone.

Except him.

 

 

Nico’s 7th birthday should’ve been the first clue.

A little party at home in a mansion big enough to house his whole grade. Yet Bianca, his older sister with freckles and dark flowing hair, is the only one who bothers to show up. (He isn’t good at making friends, looking back.) At such a young age, and even at a prestigious school where the parents’ money mattered more than academic marks, he’s an annoying, talkative kid, high class etiquette wasted on him. Loves to show anyone who will listen about his hobby, collecting any type of trading card whether it was baseball, Pokémon, or Mythomagic, to name a few. Maybe that’s why nobody plays with him at recess, why they sit away from him at lunch—even if he shares his chocolate pudding, or why nobody wants to be his restroom buddy.

It’s fine though, just him and Bianca. That’s how it goes for a few years: she and the housekeeping staff make him a scrumptious cake; dress up the living room with banners, streamers, and balloons; and buy him a few gifts. They play party games until they’re all laughing. The parties never last long; the staff go back to tidying up the house before Hayden comes back home, so the rest of the evening after they both finish their homework, Nico and Bianca watch movies.

He figures, if she’s the only one who ever celebrates his birthday with him, then he’s content.

Oh, and he does get her all to himself birthdays 7 and 8, at the price of his mother, Maria, passing away before he’s 9. No more of her smiles along her round face or laughs from her full lips. No more little Italian terms of endearment she loved to whisper to him when she tucked him in, her hair tickling his face whenever she kissed his cheek. No more of her warm embrace and soft hands soothing his scalp.

Bianca lets him cry and sings him a lullaby until he’s dozed off in her arms.

 

 

The 10th birthday, however, is the one he’ll always remember in meticulous detail.

Bianca is twelve, going on thirteen soon that year—middle schooler. Unlike Nico, she makes friends without a problem. Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase she meets in the sixth grade. They have older friends, seniors in high school—Thalia Grace and Zoe Nightshade, who babysit each of them respectively when their parents go out.

Annabeth is pretty, he supposes, with golden curls and gray eyes like the marble that makes up their mansion. She’s smart, and gives him candy when she visits. Thalia has freckles and likes to wear black, but by contrast, her blue eyes are bright and her red smile friendly. Zoe doesn’t talk a lot, but she ruffles Nico’s hair whenever they meet and sometimes helps him with his homework.

Percy is something else.

His hair is dark like Nico’s, but his eyes green like the sea in all those fancy paintings at the museum. He smiles and the whole room becomes warm. His laugh puts another star in the sky. Percy nods whenever Nico goes on and on about his card collection, or the new superhero cartoon he watches Saturday mornings.

It isn’t until Percy defends him from a bully that Nico thinks he’s like a hero too.

And it isn’t until his 10th birthday when he thinks maybe he was wrong.

January in California meant it was cold, but no snow. There was hail once, but Nico hadn’t been born yet, he thinks. All it does is rain whenever it’s not frustratingly hot. That day it’s pouring. So much traffic in the streets that the chauffeur doesn’t get him home until an hour later than usual.

Bianca walks out the door, saying she’s going to pick up a pizza with Percy and Annabeth so they can celebrate Nico’s birthday together; it’s Percy’s idea so the staff doesn’t have to make anything. It’s a small party, but four is bigger than two, and all those thousands of raindrops even more so.

She doesn’t have to go. He tells her it’s okay, and that the maids can cook something for them. He doesn’t know why he feels like pulling her back and hugging her into the couch. But it’s there, and it bothers him, until he almost wants to cry.

The rain is pelting the ground, on the grass and in the dirt, making it bleed onto the street until it sounds like a river. Rain shouldn’t do that.

Bianca ruffles his hair, tells him it’s fine. All she needs is an umbrella, a raincoat, and some boots. She doesn’t ask the chauffeur to drive, only because she and her friends are going in Thalia’s car.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” she says. “I’m meeting them down the street, next to that flower shop. Papa said it’s okay.” Bianca kisses his forehead before stepping out into the rain. It thunders. “This is going to be a good birthday. You’ll see.”

If it being a good birthday meant the rain washing away Bianca’s blood and tears down the storm drain after getting hit by a car while crossing the street, then yeah it’s the best possible birthday ever.

Absolutely fantastic, even.

Percy breaks the news to him when two hours go by and neither Bianca nor her friends had come back with the pizza. Percy is drenched as he stands there on the doormat, his eyes wide and sad. He’s got a few cuts and scrapes, but he’s not dead.

Not dead like Bianca.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a shaky voice, “I’m so sorry, Nico.”

Nico yells his little lungs out, telling Percy if it weren’t for his _stupid_ idea, she’d still be alive.

“I. _Hate._ You!”

He locks himself in his room and cries until his father, Hayden, comes home hours later from the hospital. The rain settles to a drizzle, cackling against Nico’s window, smearing its fingers down the glass.

“The funeral will be in a few days,” he’s informed in his father’s calm voice. “She’ll rest next to your mother.” Nico doesn’t look at him. He curls himself further into the blankets in his dark room. Hayden strokes his hair slowly, but when Nico doesn’t turn around, he withdraws.

“Maybe next year will be better,” as if that reassurance is supposed to cheer him up.

When his father is gone, Nico opens the gift Bianca would’ve given him. It’s a Mythomagic figurine of Hades, the only Olympian he still hadn’t collected.

That night he cries himself to sleep.

 

 

He asks for nothing for his 11th birthday. He comes home, does his homework, eats dinner, and goes to sleep. There’s a cake in the fridge the staff made for him when he was at school, but he doesn’t touch it.

It gets thrown out when green fluff puckers the edges a week later.

 

 

Nico isn’t someone who thinks too hard about crushes. In elementary, girls have cooties and kissing was nothing short of yucky. He doesn’t like hand holding either. Especially the hand holding.

On a day of a book fair at school, Nico doesn’t look at the boy his teacher assigned to use as a buddy when walking over there. His hand is sweaty, and his face feels a little hot. The other boy is nice enough not to say anything when they reach the book fair. In fact he’s one of few who’s nice to him, doesn’t tease Nico, and helps when he’s asked. He has his own friends, but if Nico talks with him or gets put in a group, the boy listens and smiles. One time, he even gives Nico the strawberry jello at lunchtime.

If he had to pick, that would be somebody he wouldn’t mind holding hands with again.

 

 

On his 13th birthday, Nico feels more alone than he did years prior.

The day before, he visits Bianca’s grave, and Percy is there.

He’ll be sixteen later in the year, and Annabeth too. Nico doesn’t talk to either of them, partly because of what happened, and partly because if he looks Percy in the face for too long, his own face would combust.

Percy is taller, a little more muscle on him, features sharper than when Nico saw him last, but his smile and his eyes kept the same brilliance. He’s like those TV stars on kids’ shows, the ones who come out on tween magazines at the supermarket checkout line.

When Annabeth holds Percy’s hand, leaning into him a little and fingers entwining, a burning coal settles in Nico’s gut. It hasn’t been there before.

He whispers good bye to Bianca before turning on his heel and back to the driver waiting at the edge of the lawn of souls.

Like the TV stars, Percy has a girlfriend, one who’s just as attractive as he is. Okay, it fits. What _doesn’t_ is the tug at Nico’s heart and the liquid fire in his veins. Those things shouldn’t be there either, like the coal in his gut.

And when he realizes he’s jealous (he shouldn’t be; it’s Percy’s fault Bianca is gone after all), and that there’s a word for the _other_ thing he feels—that people who feel this way get hurt and bullied and even killed, that they’re not even safe with their own family and friends sometimes, he stays as far away from Percy as he can.

Nobody finds out, but everyone makes mistakes, and Nico isn’t very good at hiding things, apparently.

 

 

Middle school holds some of the worst memories of Nico’s life, especially eighth grade. He really doesn’t know why he needs to have a gym class. He also doesn’t understand why there aren’t any changing stalls. Is that how it’s like in the girl’s locker room too?

His gym locker is at the farthest corner, away from most of the others. Nico doesn’t stare at the other boys, because he knows guys tease each other about it, use it as a slur, as something vile and unforgivable. But maybe he doesn’t notice when he does it. Sometimes he zones out for no reason, and he knows how that might look to others.

Most of the time, he fantasizes about having a nicer figure than the lanky skin and bones he comes to be. His dark mess of a bird’s nest he calls hair doesn’t help things either, nor do the rings around his eyes. Puberty is dragging his ass on the floor, his leg tied to the bumper of its car. Others seem to have first class tickets on the next luxury airliner.

One time, he stares too long. He doesn’t have this guy for any of his classes, but Nico has seen him around. He plays baseball after school and is tall for someone who’s thirteen. He has a nice laugh, and his skin is warm. Nico often wishes he looked like that, not some sorry excuse for a poltergeist.

Snickers from three guys a few lockers down have him turning away in an instant.

They come up to him in stride, smirking at Nico as if they know some big secret. He’s changing back into his gray uniform slacks when they crowd around his personal space. Two of them lean against either side of the locker wall, while the biggest guy looms over him, arms crossed and grin eerily wicked.

“What do you want?” Nico asks defensively, fiddling with his belt buckle.

“There’s a rumor going around that someone saw you sucking dick behind the math building,” the biggest guy replies. “Is it true?”

“Whoever started that is blind.” Nico slips the belt into the buckle, fastens it, and rummages for his dress shirt and vest. “Some guy dropped something and I picked it up to give it back to him.”

“Did he take you into the math lab and fuck you over a table?” asks the guy to his left. “You do look like you could be someone’s little bitch.”

Nico pulls on his shirt and vest in a hurry, before sitting on the wooden bench to tie his school regulated shoes. “You’re all full of crap.”

“Are we?” asks the third. “We saw you checking out Rogers earlier.”

He tenses for just a brief moment, the boys grinning from ear to ear, and that’s all it takes for him to snap back, “Funny coming from the guys who like to talk about sex and dicks so much. Makes you wonder.”

Nico runs out of the locker room before any of the boys can catch him.

 

 

For the rest of the day his classes go on as normal, nobody has vandalized his locker, he does his homework in the library—everything’s going fine.

Well, at least until lunch time.

There are a bunch of flyers scattered about when he reaches the cafeteria. Several students have it gripped in their hands. Some look at it in disgust, others laugh, and some throw it away in the trash can, instead choosing to go on with their day. When Nico finally picks one up for himself, he wishes the earth would open up and swallow him whole.

It’s clearly a Photoshopped picture (from one of the many field trips they’ve taken), but it’s him in printed lined ink nonetheless, sucking off the guy from behind the math building. There’s doodles of dicks around it, and apparently his new moniker, ‘ _Nico di Angelo: Cocksucker Extraordinaire_ ’.

He hurriedly crumples up the paper and throws it in the trash. Nico grabs his lunch and walks out of the cafeteria, but the flyers are littered everywhere he goes. Some of the students look up at him and begin to whisper.

Nico turns a sharp corner and crashes into the lunchtime chaperone.

“Mr. di Angelo,” he says, deep voice disappointed, “Dean’s Office. Now.”

“But I didn’t print those—!”

“The office, Mr. di Angelo. You can take your lunch with you if you’d like.”

Needless to say, Nico spends his afternoon in the office. In the end, the dean believes his innocence and promises to punish the boys who made the flyers, though she makes an effort to warn him there was to be absolutely no sexual activity on campus ever, and if he knows of any, to report it.

He spends the rest of his birthday at home, holed up in his room, crying to himself in the adjoining bathroom so the staff doesn’t hear.

The ‘reputation’ follows him to high school, considering it was still the same academy from when he was younger. It was just so big though that it held (rich) students from pre-school through twelfthgrade. He’s called multiple slurs, still has no friends (probably a factor from the first thing), and is bullied at least once a week, sometimes because of _it_ , or some other asinine reason, or simply because an asshole is bored and finds joy in making his life hell.

Standards for his next birthdays reach an all-time low.

 

 

Nico’s 16th birthday is… something else.

He meets Hazel Levesque by coincidence, really. She’s a small girl in his afternoon art class and is just about the only person nice to him, aside from their teacher, Ms. Iris. Cinnamon curls, dark skin, and large honey-colored eyes, Hazel’s the epitome of sweetness. She talks with him, sometimes shares her lunch, and goes over to his home for buddy assignments. But for her own safety, he doesn’t hang around her in public.

Not that anybody dares to bully Hazel. Her boyfriend is Frank Zhang, one of the school’s best football players. He’s huge like a bear, though apparently he’s more like a _teddy_ bear, according to Hazel. Looks can be deceiving, he guesses.

After lunch on his special day, Nico gets stuffed into his own locker (fourth time that year, or was it five?), and has to bang on it until a teacher or custodian lets him out. He misses the next period, but manages to make it to the other ones. The teachers plead with him to tell them who did it, but Nico shakes his head.

“Why does it matter? They’re just going to bully me some other way.” That, and the parents’ money was enough to render the strict anti-bullying policy useless.

Nico goes on with the remaining hours, and sighs in relief when he walks up the steps to his home. His father’s car is gone, and his step-mother Penelope is on a business trip. Their three Doberman Pincers, Cerberus, Alecto, and Nyx (all siblings), run through the foyer, nails clicking on the polished marble floor. They tackle him down and slobber all over his face.

The mansion is quiet and cold, but his dogs keep him warm as he does his homework in his room. They crowd around him on the bed, and sleep soundly.

By the time he gets called down to dinner, his father is surprisingly home, along with Hazel. A birthday cake encased in a glass stand sits at the center of the table, along with a fresh vase of flowers, a few gifts, and three dinner plates covered in silver lids.

“Nico,” his father says with a slight nod, “you’ve met Hazel at school, correct?” Hayden, still in his pristine suit, sits at the head of the table, swirling wine in his glass. His dark hair is neatly combed and his features sharp enough to cut through steel. In an odd way, he looks like a vampire, but that’s something that Nico wouldn’t dare say aloud.

“Uh, yeah.” He sits opposite of Hazel on his father’s right side. “Met her when the school year started. Why?”

“You didn’t tell her it was your birthday today?”

“No, why should I have?”

“Oh,” Hazel starts, “if you would’ve told me, you, Frank, and me could’ve hung out somewhere! Like at an arcade! And eat sushi!”

“My son cares little for birthdays,” Hayden informs. “Though, after tonight, I hope now he’ll be more enthusiastic about them.”

Nico doesn’t respond, so Hazel fills the silence. She tells both him and Hayden about her life: an orphan who was adopted into a foster family just two years ago. Good people. Hayden asks her how she’s enjoying her new school, and she tells him she likes it very much, and that she especially loves the art program.

He asks how she likes Nico, and she replies with a sweet smile that he’s quiet, but he’s funny and smart. Nice too. Like a brother to her.

“I see.” Hayden cuts into his salmon, before adding, “It’s a coincidence you feel that way. Do you know why I invited you over, Hazel?”

“No sir, I don’t.”

“This will come as a shock, but you’re both old enough to know the truth now.”

Finding out Hazel is his half-sister leaves Nico speechless and petrified where he sits.

He’s happy, of course, that he has another sibling. Hazel is kind and adores him like the brother he apparently now is to her for real, but knowing his father was involved with another woman so quickly after Maria’s passing—well, at least it wasn’t an affair, right?

Yeah, right. Like he should be thankful.

The new revelation doesn’t stop him from feeling angry after Hazel leaves later that night, shocked and in near tears. Nico yells, he screams, he shouts, and he storms away to his room. His father isn’t the warmest man, nor is he the best parent (being absent for so long because of work isn’t winning him any awards), but something akin to guilt crosses his features in the split second Nico turns on his heels.

It’s so fast, though, he wonders if he simply imagined it to spare himself.

 

 

He’s gotten over Percy at 17, forgiven both him and his father when he’s 18, comes out to Hazel at 19, and has at least a few friends by the time he’s 20. College, thankfully, doesn’t have as much bullshit to deal with unlike high school and below. Too many kids are losing sleep over deadlines, clubbing on weekends until they have vicious hangovers, or drowning themselves in coffee and stress to give a rat’s ass about the personal lives of their peers.

Most of the time, anyway.

 

 

While his 20th birthday was no big deal, his 21st tipped the scales in his favor.

College is hell, and so his friends can’t make it to whatever they were going to do. Pizza, probably. He really only has two of them: Reyna Ramírez-Arellano and Will Solace. Her skin is warm and dark hair usually kept in a braid. Athletic build and piercing eyes, but kind underneath. She reminds Nico of the tales of Amazons. The other’s got a mild tan taut on an equally athletic physique. A cluster of blond curls, blue eyes always cheerful, his past relationships have always likened him to the sun. Reyna’s too busy with an internship at a law firm, and Will’s drowning in microbiology homework. They must hate themselves for choosing law and medicine as a major.

So instead, Nico finds himself in a club, alone, flashing his ID now that’s he’s legally allowed to drink (in public anyway). Nursing the glass in his hand, he gives full attention to the alcohol that swishes around inside, smacking against the sides, a few drops sputtering onto the reflective neon blue counter.

He doesn’t know how many he’s had. Maybe three or four. Possibly five. A few people try to hit on him—some of these assholes look old enough to be his own father, even. Fucking gross. He repels them all away with his famous Di Angelo Death Glare, courtesy of Hayden. Nobody is getting his ass tonight, or dick, or whatever other part of his body they were lusting after.

The bar tender slides him a basket of chicken fingers. “On the house, for the birthday boy.” The tomato sauce sits in a dinky little speckled container, hidden by the edges of the largest chicken finger. It’s shaped oddly like knife.

21 years is a long time to live. He wonders how Bianca would be at this age. Vibrant and bright, changing the world wherever she could. Maybe a scientist. He doesn’t know, but he likes to think she’d have won some kind of Nobel Peace Prize while she’s still in her prime.

Five drinks become six, and six become seven, and then he’s on the dance floor, liquid courage eliciting laughs from him as he grinds down on some dude, or chick. He honestly can’t tell with all the blurred images. There’s the smell of chicken, maybe salt—somebody spills a margarita on him, and then hands clutch at his shirt, some names are called, and he laughs.

Nico doesn’t know why he’s walking away then. A strong arm, thick like an elephant’s trunk, is wrapped around him. The cold air brushes his cheeks and car horns ring in his ears. Soft, plump fabric embraces his back, and he’s moving again, until he sees nothing but darkness.

When he wakes up, he feels like splitting the whole world in two, and the light is doing a wonderful job on searing his eyes with the brand of the sun. He rubs fingers along his temple and wants to just fall into the floor, possibly melt in the dark blue carpeting.

Wait.

“The fuck?” Nico sits up in bed, though notably, not _his_ bed. The mattress is too hard and the sheets are neatly tucked into the edges. Someone has too much time on their hands. Even the rest of the room is well kept, with everything in place, and blinds bundled at the top of the window. The furniture—a bed, dresser, desk, and one chair—are clean of dust. They’re a dark gray, with the walls painted a pale blue.

He grips at his clothes. Still on, thank God, and there aren’t any suspicious stains on his shirt either that hints what he might’ve done even without getting undressed.

An anchor drags behind him as he forces himself to get out of bed, but he needs to leave before whoever’s home this was, decided to end their hospitality prematurely.

Except, he doesn’t even know where he is, and most likely doesn’t have his car with him either. His phone is gone too. Fucking great. Even if he does sneak out, there’s no way to get back to the college campus, and neither of his friends would ever know what happened to him.

“Oh, you’re up.”

Nico pauses mid-step into the living room. Like the bedroom, it’s well-kept and plain, save for the occupant on the couch. Golden close-cropped hair, eyes as blue as the sky, smile genuine and gentle, a small scar on an upper lip, and shoulders wide like a quarterback’s. Chiseled features, like a Roman statue. His glasses are rimmed with bronze, biceps as thick as Nico’s own damn skull.

Holy shit. Did he step into a modeling agency or something?

“Where… am I?” he asks slowly, eyeing the stranger. “And who the hell are you?”

“You don’t remember anything from last night?” Glasses Guy walks toward him, looking concerned. “I’m sorry I didn’t take you back to campus. The school was closed, so I brought you here.” He holds his hands up in defense when he’s met with a glare. “I swear I didn’t do anything funny.”

“Better not have, or I’ll kick your ass.” Nico leans against the wall, hanging his head in his hand. “Can you tell me how I got here? I know I was getting wasted. You’d think I’d learn after the second time. Hmm? Oh.”

A glass of water and two aspirin pills present themselves in his face. Nico looks up through his bangs at the guy, who only continues to smile. “Thanks.” He pops the pills in his mouth and downs the water in one go. “Ugh, I didn’t puke on your floor or something, did I?”

“Managed to get you to the bathroom before you could.”

“Fucking hell.” Nico hands him the glass. “Sorry. You’ve seen my phone anywhere? Or, like, my wallet?”

Glasses Guy McHot Damn plucks a phone and wallet from a drawer in the living room’s end table. “Took them off you so you’d sleep comfortably.”

“I was passed out cold. Doubt I’d care whether I was comfortable or not. But,” he slips them both back into his pockets, “thanks. You still didn’t answer my questions though: how did I get here and who are you?”

“You really don’t know me?”

“No. Should I?”

The guy sighs, and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sure Reyna mentioned me once. Hopefully. She’s actually the one who asked me to come and get you. Said she knew you were going to go to the club on your birthday. Um, happy birthday, by the way.”

“Can’t remember much of it except the taste of chicken fingers, but thanks.” Nico huffs, crosses his arms. “And that’s just like her, looking out for little ol’ me. So, then you’re a friend of hers?”

“Yeah.” He smiles again, and holds out his hand. “I’m Jason Grace, but a lot of my friends just call me Jay or Jace. Sparky and Captain are other monikers I’ve earned.”

“Pretty sure there’s an interesting story behind them.” Nico stares at his outstretched hand, blinks, and then shakes it. “Well, thanks for saving me any future embarrassment, Jason. I’m Nico di Angelo, but you can call me Nico. Nothing else.”

“Then,” Jason grins, and his handshake is firm, “it’s nice to meet you, Nico. You hungry? I can cook up some breakfast. Or, brunch. It’s noon.”

“You’re not a serial killer, are you?”

“If I was, Reyna would’ve slaughtered me by now for the greater good. Nothing gets passed her.”

“True. And, yeah, I’ll have some breakfast. Brunch. Whatever.”

As Jason cooks, Nico hangs off the kitchen chair, listening to an account of what happened last night at the club. Apparently he drank too much and flung himself into the dancing crowd, grinding on whoever was warmest, and drinking from random people’s glasses.

Nico groans, slapping a hand over his forehead. “Fuck my ass.”

Jason turns, cheese omelet sizzling in the pan, spatula held poised over the grease. “Uh, excuse me?”

“Oh God,” Nico shakes his head, and he waves his hands in front of him, “no, no I don’t mean it like that. I’m just pissed that I did this again. Last time I got wasted, I ended up losing my virginity—kicked the person’s ass when I found out. And the second time, I made out with some fucknugget who then wouldn’t leave me alone for weeks.”

“That sounds awful….”

“My birthdays haven’t been too great, yeah.”

“Well,” Jason set the omelet in front of him, “there’s always next year, right?”

“Right.” Nico pours salt over the omelet and digs into it with a knife and fork. “This is good. Or maybe I’m just hungry. You like cooking?”

“Had to learn.” Jason shrugs, leaning against the counter. “Ended up making it a hobby, I guess. My friends like to come over because they know I’ll have food. Sometimes they even buy me ingredients too. Like just recently, my big sister Thalia came over with a grocery bag, explaining, ‘Hey Jay, saw this savory shit on the cooking channel, and thought you might wanna try it out.’ She volunteered to be the taste tester.” He shakes his head. “Good thing is that they help clean up, so I don’t mind it too much.”

“Wait, your sister is Thalia Grace?” Jason nods, and Nico rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “She did say she has a little brother she found out about a couple of years back, but I don’t think I caught the name. Oooh, wait,” Nico points the fork at him, eyes wide, “ _now_ I remember! Reyna brought me some cake from a potluck her law buddies did last semester. Chocolate marble cake. It was the best thing I’ve ever had in my life, and she said her friend Jason made it—one hell of a chef. You majoring in culinary arts?”

Jason grins, and shakes his head. “Thanks. And no, I’m actually a law student too. Reyna’s one of my classmates, and that cake was for an end of the semester party we all had after finals.”

“Shit.” Nico slices up the remaining bits of his omelet, slipping them into his mouth. “Another criminal law student. You hate yourself too, huh?”

When Jason laughs, Nico’s chest feels light, and the cheese melts on his tongue.

Achievement unlocked: third friend added.

 

 

The next three birthdays are spent better than his 21st. At 22 his friends take him out bowling, 23 he agrees to go skydiving, and 24 he lets himself be convinced to save up money so he can bleed it all out on souvenirs at Disneyland. His friends pay for his ticket, but the memories he doesn’t mind putting a price tag on. At the end of the night, when the fireworks show blazes among the stars, he and Jason kiss for the first time, lips melding in a wordless confession they’ve both been holding for over a year and a half.

That birthday is the best, he thinks.

 

 

Nico’s 25th year has him tuckered out of doing anything special. He spends a late night at work in his father’s company, and neither of his friends have mentioned his birthday all month. Well, at least he’ll get home and cuddle Jason as they watch sitcoms in the living room. Maybe they’ll have some special birthday sex and then go out somewhere over the weekend.

So, with that in mind, it comes as a shock when he gets to his apartment (Jason’s really, but Nico’s been living with him for a while already) and his friends jump out at him with, “Surprise!” He stares at the streamers and balloons, mouth gaping like a fish out of water. Food is steaming on the table, and presents cluttered on the living room couch, and Jason—that idiot—is standing there with his camera, grinning from ear to ear.

“I… I thought you all forgot,” Nico says, looking at them all, from Percy to Hazel, and everyone else in between.

“We didn’t,” Reyna replies, ushering him inside. “It’s just that we weren’t sure what to do for your birthday this year.”

“Yeah,” Hazel nods, “so Jason suggested just a simple surprise party.”

“After that sky diving thing,” Will adds, “he was positive you’d want something a little less exciting.”

“That was your fault it happened,” Nico punches him in the arm, “you asshole.” Will just laughs and rubs his arm.

All of them have a late dinner together (Nico’s favorite Italian dishes cooked by Jason himself) and then cut the cake before Percy or Leo got the bright—yet stupid for their own sake’s—idea to push his face into the artisan pastry Jason no doubt took hours to prepare for. It was chocolate marble, decorated with some kind of modestly glittering frosting. Presents were mostly giftcards, not that he minded, along with a few nerdy knickknacks for the apartment. Being the Tired Adults that they were, the party games were limited to a few rounds of Cards Against Humanity, and more than once somebody ended up heaving a laugh.

When everyone left, the house settled into a calm again before Nico and Jason trudged to bed, deserving of much needed rest.

“Thanks,” Nico says, slipping out of his dress shirt and tie. “Just what I needed.”

“Awful day at work?” Jason cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders. “I can relate.”

“Yet you came home early and cooked, all for me.”

“Twenty-five is an important year, don’t you think? A quarter of a century. Damn, you’re pretty ancient, Neeks.”

Nico bites his lip and grins, throwing his crumpled shirt at Jason’s head. “Fucker. You’ll be twenty-seven this year. Who’s the ancient one again, Jace?”

Jason laughs and picks up the shirt, folding it neatly before placing it on top of the dresser. “I felt old at sixteen, believe it or not.”

“Well you mother hen everyone,” Nico slips his belt off and tosses his pants on the chair, “so I’m honestly not surprised.”

“Can’t help it.” Jason shrugs off his own shirt and shoes. “Thals always says it’s because our mom wasn’t really there, so in some weird way, I act like that with everyone else.”

“It’s not a bad thing.” Nico crawls across the bed and wraps his arms around Jason’s midsection, kissing down the side of his neck. “You’re good at taking care of people, me especially. Thanks for that.”

“I love doing it for people that mean a lot to me.” Jason turns his head and kisses the corner of Nico’s lips. “You most of all.”

“Sap.”

“You like it.”

“Mm, you wouldn’t be Jason if you weren’t, yeah.”

Nico settles in his boyfriend’s lap, fingers tangled in his hair as lips slide together. He tugs them down onto the bed, slipping his tongue into Jason’s mouth, kissing until they can’t breathe. It’s too hot, and Nico lifts his hips so Jason can pull his boxers off and toss them to nowhere important. His own last bits of clothing are flung onto the chair, and Nico moans low in his throat as Jason plants kisses all along his neck and shoulder, kneading his thigh with a big, calloused hand, teasing him with a thumb grazing the groove of where his leg meets his pelvis.

The rest of the night is filled with ardent galaxies and names dripping euphoria, like sweet nectar oozing over them both until they’re peacefully spent in damp sheets and nestled in each other’s embrace.

A steady heartbeat and kiss to the top of his head has him smiling off into his dreams.

 

 

Jason takes him out for a whole Saturday as his birthday gift. Though Nico tells him he doesn’t have to because he threw the party, Jason insists he get to pamper Nico for hours, and he can’t say no to his lethal puppy dog look. He’s too cute for his own good, and Nico both hates and loves that about him.

He gives in with a non-committal sigh as Jason hugs him and kisses his cheek, “But under one condition.”

“Of course. Anything for my honey muffin.”

“You’re fucking gross,” Nico laughs, pushing him away. “Yuck. But—,” he kisses Jason chastely on the lips, “—in all seriousness, I wanna stop at the flower shop in the morning.”

“Really? Okay, sure. That’ll be the first thing we do Saturday.”

When Nico has the flowers that day, and he gives Jason directions to the cemetery, Jason says nothing. Only nods, and says he’ll wait in the car so Nico can have some time to himself. But Nico shakes his head, and tugs him along to Bianca’s plot. There’s another set of flowers there already, and the tombstone is cleaned and polished. Just like Maria’s grave. He can only assume it’s from his father, and the colorful arrangement courtesy of Penelope.

Nico leaves each of his bouquets in the spare slots of both graves, fluffing them up so they bloom brilliantly under Bianca’s and Maria’s names. He traces his fingers over the inscription, and smiles sadly. Jason stands behind him, hands clasped forward, and silent.

“I miss you, Bia,” he whispers. “You too, Mama. Never stopped. But now it’s a little better, and I can smile on a day that’s supposed to be mine, without tearing up thinking about you. I’ll never forget either of you, but I know you wouldn’t want me to punish myself for nothing. Took over a decade, but hey, better late than never, right?”

He smiles solemnly, gesturing with his hand at Jason for him to kneel in front of them with him. He does, and holds Nico’s hand all the while.

“You remember Jason, right Bia? My dork of a boyfriend. Mama already met him a while back.”

“Is that any way to introduce me to your sister?” Jason asks lightly.

“Well I gotta be honest.”

They spend at least an hour sitting on the lawn, Nico sharing the memories he made with Bianca and his mother, or the ones he could remember anyway. Jason listens, his attention always focused on Nico. When his vision blurs with wet heat, Jason wraps an arm around his shoulders and presses him against his side. Nico lets himself lean into the comfort, and squeezes Jason’s hand when a kiss is placed on his forehead.

At the end of their visit, Nico gives his last good byes for the time being, and Jason does too. Nico kisses two of his fingers and places them on top of the tombstones, mouthing, “I love you.” He nods and smiles, and Jason takes his hand in his own as they walk away from the flowers caressed by the breeze.

 

 

Nico doesn’t particularly like birthdays.

It’s too much attention for one person, too much work and stress, and they’re outright embarrassing—sometimes the most memorable recollections possible in a person’s life, good or bad.

Regardless of some of the bad ones he’s had, he supposes the last few and the ones in the future will make up for past digressions. He can take comfort now in knowing people willingly want to celebrate his existence. People who care about and love him, giving their time and energy to make him feel wanted and appreciated.

Sometimes he wonders if Bianca or his mother sent them. They would both say he shouldn’t deprive himself of life’s little pleasures, and he isn’t about to make them frown in paradise.

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh, finally. I managed to write something for Nico's birthday, even if it might be a little late. Yes, it's angst again, because it's just not a story by me without it. ;) Tried a different writing style this time. It's my first attempt at present tense too, so let me know if I missed the mark or something. 
> 
> Mm, in terms of Nico and his sexuality, I hope I handled it well here. If I didn't, please let me know immediately so I can correct my errors. Sorry that the Jasico was so light, but my intentions were to focus more on Nico as an individual. Couldn't help but include my OTP while I was at it though.
> 
> Anyway, happy birthday to my favorite son, Nico! Love him lots forever and ever. ❤️
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read!


End file.
